


Visiting Hours

by thisgirlnani



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Sexual Assault, Referenced Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlnani/pseuds/thisgirlnani
Summary: Struggling to cope after her family was killed in an accident, Sansa Stark has led a troubled life in the aftermath.Hoping to help her recover, her friend, Brienne, urges Sansa to accompany her to one of her community service projects, where she spends her time visiting convicts and keeping them company. Sansa reluctantly agrees and meets with Prisoner 3987, Jon Snow.An unexpected bond soon forms.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 27
Kudos: 168





	1. The First

Around late November, when the leaves were still crisp but fading in color, Sansa Stark tested death.

“How did she do it this time?” The nurses were murmuring by the door, and Sansa screwed her eyes shut, willing for them to go away. They were like pesky little flies, swarming around her room, unaware that she had awoken from sleep.

“She took a bunch of pills. Not enough, obviously.”

“What on _earth_ would a girl like her have to worry about? She’s the sole inheritor of her family’s fortune.” Sansa heard one nurse hum in agreement.

The mention of her family brought an all-too familiar lump in her throat. The accident had happened so long ago, but it was a wound that festered in her chest, failing to heal over no matter what drugs or drinks she threw at it.

“I’d _kill_ to have that kind of money.”

“God, same.”

Unwilling to listen anymore to their inane chatter, Sansa jerked her knee against the hospital bed railing with a loud _thunk_. When she looked over, the nurses, at least, had the decency to look chastened.

One of them spoke up with a tight smile on her face. “Sweetie! How’re you doing?” She bustled over, moving to check her vitals. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time, so don’t get up too fast.”

Sansa didn’t reply, letting the nurse move over her, move her arms, as necessary, as though she were a limp ragdoll. Whatever drugs they had given her, had certainly made her feel that way.  
  
The nurse left quickly, but soon after, she was replaced by another nurse who rapped quietly on the door in greeting.

“You have a visitor, Miss Stark.”

Sansa heard heels clicking against the tiled floor, and knew immediately, who it was.

Aunt Lysa, stood above her, looking down with a disapproving frown. Lysa was quite simply, a shade of her late sister. Her hair was brassy, a faded auburn, and her blue eyes had dulled to a lifeless color.

“Sansa.” There was no warmth in her voice, her name spoken so sharply, like the crack of a whip.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Sansa mumbled.

“I didn’t want to, trust me.” Aunt Lysa’s lips thinned. “The hospital will discharge you tomorrow morning. I’ve made arrangements for a car, so please take it.”

“I won’t go back to the Vale.” She snapped.

“Then, don’t.” Aunt Lysa pulled her fur coat closer around her thin frame. “Your stunts are tiring to say the least. The fact that you’re 20 now, and still acting so selfishly, is ridiculous.”

 _A stunt_. Sansa bit back a bitter chuckle. 

“Do you even care?” Aunt Lysa glared down at her. “Do you know what people think of me, every time a rumor goes into the air of you, visiting the hospital time after time?”

Her aunt cared so much for what society had to say, there was irony in that, to be sure. “Next time, I’ll try harder. The rumors should cease then, perhaps.” Sansa snarled.

Aunt Lysa’s lip curled, and her eyes narrowed in disgust. “God should have given your ungrateful life to one of your siblings.” She turned to leave, her heels scraping against the floor.

 _How original_ , Sansa thought, leaning back against her pillow, in a daze. She’s only had the exact same sentiments for 3 years now. 3 years, and still she feels the ache as strong as if it were yesterday.

_I should have been with them. I should have died instead of them._

Arya would have taken the gift of life, and lived an unapologetic, courageous life. Even now, when she closes her eyes she can picture Arya’s bright eyes and mischievous grin, perfectly, as though she never left. Robb would have done great things as well, he’d just finished his first year at University. He’d wanted to major in business and follow in dad’s footsteps. He had been so confident, so sure of everything. Bran and Rickon- she felt nauseous just thinking about it- they’d been so young. They were never even given a chance. 

Sansa was given their chance, and Sansa had squandered it all away.

* * *

  
The next morning, Sansa’s eyes fluttered open, finding Brienne Tarth standing over her bedside.

“Thank the Lords,” Brienne murmured, seeing Sansa stir.

“Brienne,” Sansa coughed, her throat dry. She grabbed the bottle of water at her bedside, and drank in great big gulps. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The tall woman’s lips twitched. “Long time no see you, to you as well.”

Brienne was the one person, Sansa could hold no malice towards. She’d been the social worker who had cared for Sansa in the weeks following the accident. She was a kind woman, who had gone out of her way to always check up on Sansa, even after Aunt Lysa had taken her in. Sansa often fantasized about the life that could have been, had Brienne been able to take her in, instead of Aunt Lysa.

Brienne shuffled around the hospital room. Her tall frame cast a comforting presence. “I’m taking you to your place.” Brienne was already gathering Sansa’s belongings into her arms. “She gave me your new address. It’s close to where I work. Lysa said you would need somebody to take you back, anyways.”

Sansa snorted. She doubted Lysa phrased it in that exact manner. But it was of no consequence. The hospital walls were stifling, and the sooner that she could leave and be back in the comforting dark of her apartment, the better.

Outside, the sun shone brightly, but a cold wind stirred up the trees, shaking red and gold leaves to the ground. Sansa tossed her purse into the backseat, but not before withdrawing a cigarette and her lighter. She got into the front seat, lighting the cigarette with a muttered curse.

Brienne couldn’t hide the displeasure on her face. “Well, come on, then.” Sansa exhaled. “Get it off your chest.” 

“Get what off my chest?” Brienne frowned.

“Your lecture.” Sansa rolled her eyes, a rise of irritation flaring up within her. She knew it was misdirected, but her emotions always got the best of her. 

_She didn’t used to be like this. She used to be the good daughter, the calm, dependable girl everyone could count on._ That girl had died in the car crash along with the rest of her family.

“I’m not going to lecture you, Sansa.” 

She sighed. “I wanted to apologize.” Brienne confessed. “Back when the accident happened, I told myself I’d be there for you. In this past year, I’ve hardly visited or called. When I got that call from Lysa…” Brienne trailed off, her wide, blue eyes watering. “I’m sorry, Sansa.” She cleared her throat, composing herself. “I want to be there for you.”

Sansa stared outside the window, not wanting to meet Brienne’s gaze. _Again, and again, Sansa fucked it all up, how could Brienne still care?_

“Don’t apologize.” Sansa mumbled, taking another drag of her cigarette. “You’re the last person who needs to apologize.” Sansa shook her head, “That day, you showed up at the Vale, I remember thinking you looked like an angel. You have been there for me.”

“Sansa…what happened that day…” Brienne looked ashamed and guilt-ridden.

She waved away Brienne’s concern, her cigarette smoke moving with her hand. “I don’t want to talk about that. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Let’s talk about what you’ve been doing?” She took a drag of the cigarette, feeling it flow into her lungs with some kind of hollow satisfaction. “Do you still volunteer at the jail, like you used to?”

Brienne shifted in her seat, “I do. It’s funny that you bring that up, actually.”

Sansa brushed a red curl out of her face, “Funny?”

The blonde woman’s blue eyes sharpened, “Number 3987.”

Sansa’s eyebrow rose, questioningly. “Hm?”

“He’s a convict.” Brienne explained patiently. “I send him letters, he’s been refusing to meet with me. But he finally agreed, and I’d like you to come with me, to see him. I think you could be of great help.”

Sansa couldn’t help but wonder at the kindness and the naivety of the woman. “Brienne, I can’t even live my own life, how the hell am I supposed to help some dead-beat criminal?”

Though, she couldn’t help her curiosity, “What did he do?”

“You can ask him yourself. Come to the prison, on Thursday.” Brienne pleaded. “Just come once, and if you don’t like it, I won’t make you come back. You could help him, I know it. It would be good for you too.”

Sansa scoffed inwardly. 

There would be no good from this.

* * *

Prisoner 3987 was young. 

That had thrown Sansa off. In the days leading up to the visit, Sansa pictured him as a graying middle-aged man, certainly she had never expected him to come face to face with a man who looked to be barely older than she was. Perhaps, he was Robb’s age, she thought, studying the mop of black curls that obscured almost both his eyes. 

“Sansa, Brienne, this is 3987, Jon Snow.” The warden, a sandy-haired man with a matching beard, settled against the wall and motioned for them to take a seat.

Jon Snow. His gaze was sharp and intense as he surveyed the two women. Sansa couldn’t help but flush underneath his look. _What was she doing here?_ It felt wrong to be here, intrusive in a stranger’s most vulnerable point in life.

“You’re the one who’s been sending me letters?” His voice was rough, and she was surprised to hear the distinctive, Northern brogue. Sansa looked up, startled to see he was looking straight at her. His question had been directed at her.

“No, Mr. Snow.” Brienne cut in, smoothly. “I have. Sansa here, is accompanying me, today.” She smiled, kindly. “I have to say, I’m happy you agreed to see me. It is good to see you, face-to-face.”

He did not return Brienne’s smile. “I wanted to meet with you for one thing, ma’am.”

Brienne nodded, encouragingly.

“All the letters…coming to visit me, it’s unnecessary.” His shoulders were hunched, and when he moved slightly, Sansa heard the clink of metal against metal. His hands were cuffed beneath the table.

The blonde woman was undeterred by his words. “Now, Jon.” Her voice was like a gentle caress. “You haven’t had many visitors. I was thinking Sansa could visit you every week and keep you company. She’s from the North as well, I figured you might have some things in common. “

She felt his gaze, again on her, but she was determined not to stare back. Instead, she fiddled with her hands, hoping for the time to go faster.

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again. “Princess looks like she’d rather be anywhere, but here.”

Sansa’s flush grew, but this time out of indignation. She wasn’t expecting him to weep in joy at the prospect of her visits, but it stung to be outright rejected, no matter if he was a stranger. “Yes, what normal person wouldn’t want to spend their Thursday morning at the county jail?” She snapped, finally meeting his gaze. Her words brought a flash into his molten silver eyes.

Beside her, Brienne sighed deeply. “Sansa, _please_.”

Jon Snow leaned back, looking pleased that his suspicions had been confirmed. “Mr. Snow, please forgive her. She’s been under quite some duress-” Sansa shot Brienne a dark, forbidding look and any further words died in Brienne’s throat.

“Duress?” He repeated with an odd expression. That must have been funny to him. Perhaps he was thinking that this ‘princess’ couldn’t possibly know what duress felt like. He shrugged, seemingly bored. “I don’t see the point in being a charity case for her. I don’t need any visitors, any more than she needs to waste her mornings here.”

“Mr. Snow, it’s been almost 3 years since you’ve had visitors. Sansa wouldn’t be wasting her time at all-“

“I think he’s made up his mind, Brienne.” Sansa stood up abruptly. She wasn’t going to beg some deadbeat criminal to spend time with her. This was infuriatingly ridiculous.

“Sansa-” Brienne reached for her arm, but it wasn’t hard to push her hand away as she made her way towards the door. “Sansa, _he knew Robb_.”

She stopped then.

It was enough to cause her eyes to prickle, just hearing his name. Her chest tightened, and it felt as though all the air in the room had vanished. 

_Son_  
_brother,_  
_and forever loved._

“Robb Stark?” Sansa wasn’t even looking at Jon Snow, but the surprise was clear in his Northern accent that reminded her of pine, fresh snow, and home. 

She drew in a shaky, shuddering breath and willed herself to leave.


	2. The Second

_6 months after the accident._

_“She doesn’t have anywhere to go.”_

_“I don’t care.” _

_Sansa wondered how many times they had had this conversation. The frequency of their fights had increased in the past month, with Lysa’s shrill voice, becoming a routine part of Sansa’s afternoon and evenings._

_“Lysa! How can you not? Her family died. They were your family too!” Lysa cared for no Starks. She barely cared for her late Tully sister._

_“Oh, I’m sure she’s come to you crying no doubt of her misfortunes.” Aunt Lysa sneered. Her accusation sent a sickening jolt through Sansa’s stomach. So, Aunt Lysa did know. Aunt Lysa knew and yet she never-_

_“She has every right to be sad.” Petyr was unbothered. He always was._

_“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”_

_From her hiding place, Sansa quelled the urge to vomit. She hated how he looked at her. Sometimes his gaze felt more invasive than his physical touch. His eyes were black pools that threatened to swallow her up in a filthy sludge that coated her limbs, unable to be washed away, no matter how hard she scrubbed._

_“Come now,” Petyr said. His voice was saccharine-sweet. “I adore you, Lysa.” Gods, she hated his voice too. She hated everything about him._

_She ran away from her hiding spot, then._

_Away from Lysa._

_Away from Petyr._

_Away from the Vale._

_I’m not safe here, she thought. But the truth had always been lurking at the back of her mind._

_I’ve never been safe here. _

* * *

She hadn’t wanted to return at first.

A bitter taste in her mouth had bloomed, from the moment she had left the prison. She couldn’t shake the image of Jon Snow with his wild black curls and sad gray gaze. Something about him unnerved her, in the days following her visit to the jail.

Curiosity prickled at her, like a stubborn thorn, and refused to leave her be.

Brienne had called after the incident. Sansa hadn’t picked up. She’d just laid in bed, watching her phone light up, casting shadows against the ceiling, and listened to the subsequent voicemails that followed.

_Sansa, I hope you’re doing okay._

_I shouldn’t have pushed so soon._

_Please let me know if you want to meet for lunch or dinner._

She hadn’t gone to meet Brienne for a nice lunch. Sansa had merely texted back, a short, “ _I’m fine.”._ By then, she had made up her mind.

On Thursday morning, she’d gotten into her car and drove to the county jail. Gloomy skies and overplayed Christmas tunes from the radio station had kept her company on the drive.

The same sandy-haired warden, from before, was there at the front and he looked surprised to see her again. “You’re the girl that was with Miss Tarth.” He said by way of greeting. He had a name tag, pinned haphazardly onto his white button-up, ‘ _E. Tollett’_.

“Sansa Stark.” She nodded, pulling her cardigan closer to her body. “I didn’t think you would remember me.”

His chuckle came easily as he extended a hand. “Edd Tollett. We don’t get many visitors for Snow. You left in such a hurry last time, didn’t think you’d be back anytime soon.”

“I-I wanted to see if, he would see me.” Sansa swallowed. “Jon Snow, I mean.” She checked the website online before leaving, making sure that visitor hours were at this time.

“Are we expecting Miss Tarth, as well?”

“No,” She shook her head. Her fingers twisted together in slight apprehension. “Brienne doesn’t know I’m here.” It’s not as though she meant for her visit to be a secret, but she wanted to see him—alone.

He eyed her with a quizzical glance, before shrugging. “Wait here. I’ll see if he’s willing to see you. Like you probably guessed, he’s not very fond of visitors.”

The minutes ticked by agonizingly and she wistfully thought of the pack of cigarettes she had left in the car. They wouldn’t have let her bring it in to the jail anyways. She’d had to leave her purse and winter jacket in the car as well.

Left alone, Sansa couldn’t help as her stomach roiled with nervous anticipation. _Would he even want to see her?_ She had been callously rude at their first meeting, so no doubt, he had every right to reject her visitation request. She couldn’t imagine him being anything but displeased with her presence. But, maybe he was curious too – curious of their shared connection with Robb.

_I want to see him. I want to ask him about Robb._

The certainty she felt was odd. She’d been so used to drifting through a fog of apathy and indifference, that the sudden clarity was disconcerting.

“Ma’am.” The warden’s voice speared through her thoughts. She jumped a bit when she realized he was only an arm’s reach away from her side. He gave her a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He gestured towards the hallway. “Good news, Miss Stark.”

“Snow said he’ll meet with you.”

* * *

Sansa was at a loss for her words.

Despite all her rush in coming down this morning, and the questions that had been whirling through her mind all week, she could only simple stare at Jon Snow now that he was finally in front of her.

“You can sit, Miss Stark.” Mr. Tollett prompted, from behind her.

“Ah, of course.” Sansa ducked her head and pulled out her chair. The metal scrapped, gratingly, against the floor and she sat quickly, crossing her legs as a force of habit.

Jon Snow merely gazed at her. It was hard to tell what emotions were playing behind his steel eyes. He didn’t look particularly angry, so she supposed that it was a better start than the worst-case scenario she had feared.

Words were difficult to summon. “I-I um, well, thank you for agreeing to see me.”

Jon Snow leaned back into his chair. “You didn’t have anything better to do this morning?” His words were soft, but they stung all the same.

She flushed. “Last time, I behaved rudely.” Sansa admitted. She summoned the courage to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me.”

His head tilted in some sort of acknowledgement at her words. “I told Miss Tarth, already. I don’t need any visitors. You didn’t need to come back. You can tell her I said so.”

Sansa shook her head. “I didn’t come because she told me too. Brienne doesn’t know I’m here.” Something like surprise briefly flickered into his expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“So then, why _are_ you here?” Jon eyed her warily.

“I just wanted to see you.” Sansa said, honestly. “I wanted to talk about _Robb_.”

The mention of her brother’s name softened his features.

“You look like him.” He said quietly, after a moment. His eyes had dropped to his lap. “Miss Tarth told me you were his sister after you left, but I should have realized sooner.”

_Tully red hair. Blue eyes._

Did he see Robb, when he looked at her? Sometimes she could see Robb in her own reflection. It was akin to being haunted by a ghost, at times.

A lump surfaced in her throat. “How did you know him?”

“University. I met him in one of my classes.” Jon said. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “He was-“Jon cleared his throat. “He was a good friend.” His voice was rough with emotion and something in the way his broad shoulders tensed, and the way his chin dipped down, so that she couldn’t see his expression, broke Sansa’s heart.

_He knew Robb, Sansa._

It seemed, Jon Snow knew her pain, as well.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. But, it was what a lot of people had said to her in the aftermath of the accident. Grief was a terrible, difficult thing. Was there anything _right_ to every say to somebody hurting?

Her apology seemed to jolt him. He straightened, brows drawn in dismay. “Don’t.” he rasped. “Don’t apologize. I only knew him for a year. It doesn’t compare to what you- “He shook his head, disgusted. “Forget I said anything.” Jon reached up to rub at his beard and laid his hands on the table. His cuffs clanked nosily against the metal. “Robb wouldn’t want you to be in a place like this. You should go.”

There was some truth to that, maybe. Robb had always been so unbearably protective over her. Over all of their siblings. But, the truth remained, no matter how hard she had tried to deny it over the past 3 years, Robb was dead. He was no longer here.

“It doesn’t matter what he would have wanted.” Sansa whispered, tracing patterns onto her wrist with her thumb. She wanted to be here. She wanted to know more. Her mind drifted. “What are you in for, Jon Snow?”

_What has to happen to a person, for them to be pushed so far, they commit a crime?_

Jon’s jaw visibly tensed. “I haven’t hurt anybody, if that’s what you think. I wouldn’t- _ever_.”

“I didn’t think you had.” Sansa offered, softly. She knew the ugly face that violent aggression had. She’d been on the receiving of it, one too many times. And though this was only the second time they had met, she felt, instinctually, that he did not have that ugliness lurking beneath those grey eyes. "I'm sorry, if you thought that."

Jon frowned. "Stop apologizing to me." He groused. "It isn't right."

Sansa's brows rose. "Duly noted." She had never met anybody who was quite so averse to apologies.

He seemed satisfied by her response. "Are you still in school?"

She blinked, surprised at his question. It was such a _normal_ thing to ask. "Not right now." Sansa shook her head. "The accident happened after I graduated from high school. It sort of set my plans for college off-kilter." 

"Of course." Jon's grey eyes hardened.

A pregnant silence followed.

“I should probably go.” She murmured when her eye caught the clock on the wall. “I’ll-” Sansa cleared her throat. “I’ll come back next week?”

Jon’s gaze flickered to her, and then to Mr. Tollett, whom she’d forgotten had been in the room the entire time. Other than that, he made no acknowledgement of her words. Her face fell, unable to contain her disappointment. “I don’t want to bother you, though, of course.” She made a poor attempt at a gracious smile and stood up, heading towards the door.

“You wouldn’t.”

He had muttered it so lowly, that Sansa couldn’t even be sure he was speaking to her. It didn’t help that he was firmly looking at the ground, as though it were the most fascinating color of grey he’d seen.

“Pardon?” 

“You wouldn’t be bothering me.” He repeated, just a little bit louder in his lovely, Northern accent. “If you were to come again. But, only if you want to.”

Her chest ached with some foreign emotion, and she barely nodded. “Of course. I’ll be here next week – _Jon_.”

“Next week, then.”

She left, feeling inexplicably lighter, than she had in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i'm so shocked that i managed to update within the week lmao. I'M ALSO SO PLEASED AT THE RESPONSE, thank you sooo much for all the kind words and kudos you have left this work. it makes me so so happy. thank you!!

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! i had previously uploaded a version of chapter one a long time ago, but i was recently inspired to re-work this story and so i made a few edits, and i'm starting chapter two, so i hope you enjoyed reading it!! hope to update soon as well xx


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